


Red

by orphan_account



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Bulimia, Domestic Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ode to the demon queen herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

Red.  
Red is the color of the long, silky ribbons in your braided blonde hair. Red is the color of the bag you carry on your first day of kindergarten, the same day Peter Dawson eats a spoonful of paste and throws it all up, the same day a little girl in a bright yellow dress with a name just like yours ("Copycat," you call her.) wins at hide and seek. You laugh when she gets mud that will never come out on the sunny fabric. She learns to never overshadow you again.

Red.  
Red is the color of your father's face when your mother says she doesn't want to be with him anymore. Coincidentally, it's the same color as the hand shaped mark on your mother's cheek after she says it. You learn to never make any man red. You will be the one that is red.

Red.  
It's the color of the lunch tray that contains the first lunch you decide you don't want to eat. You don't want to consume those calories, you'd rather flush them as far away from you as possible. Red is supposed to symbolize power, confidence, but in that moment, you have never felt so weak.

Red.  
It's the color of the outfit yet another girl with your name (it belongs to you, after all) wears, and it's a color she will never wear again- at least, not after you ensure she slips, getting all that red painfully dirty. She learns her lesson. Red is yours.

Red.  
Red is the color Martha Dunnstock turns when you call her Martha Dumptruck for the first time, her bloated body trembling. It's the color of lips you use to give Ram Sweeney a blowjob behind the gym. It's the color of nails on fingers gracefully used to hold a cigarette you smoke instead of going to a pep rally. It's the color of the same croquet mallet you use to win every time. It's the color of the scrunchie the girls with your name follow obediently. It's the color Westerburg fears.

Red.  
Red is the color of the dress you wear when a boy at a party goes someplace he has no right to be. Red is the color of the Porche your father buys you so he doesn't have to tell you he loves you. Red is color of the roses at your mother's funeral. Red is the color of the plastic card you can't seem to max, no matter how hard you try. Red is a color that disgusts you, but maybe it's not the color, maybe it's the girl wearing it.

Blue.  
Blue is the color of the thing that kills you, be it the girl or the liquid, you're not sure. Blue is the color that finally sets you free, the color that is on the opposite side of the spectrum from red. It's the color your mouth turns as you cry your last plea- Corn Nuts, of all things. (Food was the last thing you asked for, and if that isn't ironic, nothing is.) Blue is the last thing you see before you die. Blue is the color that brought down a queen.

You never really liked red.


End file.
